


Friends From the Past

by WyldstileTH



Series: The Demon Timeline [2]
Category: Hoshi no Kaabii | Kirby: Right Back at Ya!, Kirby (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Past
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:01:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29383149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WyldstileTH/pseuds/WyldstileTH
Summary: Meta Knight hasn't been able to sleep ever since he murdered Yamikage in the woods. Work on the Halberd or roam the castle halls. Tonight he would roam the castle halls.
Series: The Demon Timeline [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817410
Kudos: 15





	Friends From the Past

**Author's Note:**

> I blame the “Random” button on Tumblr for your coming misery. ;)
> 
> Fun Fact: This story’s name was changed 6 total times before upload.
> 
> Also warning that I'm not sure if it counts as graphic depictions of violence (it probably doesn't, but never bad to make sure): This chapter will contain someone getting violently sick (aka throwing up).

Metal against stone echoed through the castle halls, the only sound breaking through the thick silence of the night. The wind didn’t blow. The crickets didn’t sing. The stars didn’t shine.

The darkness of the night flooded his vision. What lurked beyond could only be answered by those within. Swallowed whole. The darkness being the only thing that they could see, feel, hear, taste.

Meta Knight sighed as he wandered through these emptied halls, seemingly forgotten. What was really forgotten? The halls? Or himself? Perhaps it was both. Why else would he be up at such a late hour?

He murdered his friend.

He murder him and no one seemed to care. 

The plea in Yamikage’s eyes as he laid on the ground, dying, bleeding, apologizing.

It was heartbreaking.

And it wasn’t the first time.

Galaxia glowed softly in his hand, trying to chase away his bad thoughts. He was a horrible person. Wasn’t he? None of the children would think so. But did they really know him? No. They didn’t. Not even Lola cared anymore. Not even Arthur cared anymore. Not even Garlude cared anymore. Nor did Jecra. And never did Yamikage.

What did he have that they didn’t? Why did he deserve to keep living? Why did they deserve to die? Why did he have to go through so much suffering?! WHY DID-

_ Dear heart _ , Galaxia’s soothing voice echoed through his head as her blade glowed brightly,  _ I will not tell you what you will deny, but I will tell you that you should stop thinking about this and try to sleep. I’m sure it will help if you were rested. _

Meta Knight offered the sword no response other than a quiet, low growl and a slight red tint glazing over his eyes. The sword’s glow quieted after that. It did not brighten again.

Wandering the halls was how he had spent nearly every night since his fight with Yamikage. It was either wandering the halls or working on the now dubbed Halberd. Sleep was second rate.

Meta Knight’s sabatons scrapped the floor, nearly causing him to fall face-first. He growled and began subconsciously walking faster. Eventually, he came upon a door that lead into the dark, cold halls of the castle’s basement. This basement was far above the Halberd’s hangar and was rarely used. He put his hand on the doorknob and let the door slowly creak open, revealing steps that slinked into the darkness far below.

Metal tapped as he took a few steps down. He closed the door behind him, plunging himself into complete darkness, and continued his descent. It felt cold and wet. There was the sound of dripping off to the side. Perhaps this was where the castle’s piping system ran through.

He wandered the entire length of the dank hall, hearing a faint whispering all the while. He stopped in front of a door left slightly ajar. The wood on it was rotten, damp, and dark. Any paint that had been on it was peeling, being pushed away by the water soaked into the wood’s soul. The wood wreaked of mold and mildew, the age stitched into its grooves. The weathered stones surrounding the door shined with slick spray from the dripping sewage pipes, creating an ominous shadow shrouding the door in mystery and despair.

His hand pressed against the soft wood timidly. It groaned open at his touch. The room was as dark and damp as the hall with large crates of rotting wood, shelves readying to clatter to the ground, and a table filled with clutter. Meta Knight walked over to the table and looked at all the engineering tools cluttering up the place.

Old and rusted. No one had come down here for a long while.

The crates indicated a storage room. The tools indicated Escargon’s workshop. The rust indicated all of that, however, was forgotten.

Meta Knight looked around the room at the wood and dampness. The weathered stones shined not unlike the stones surrounding the door. Most of the crates were larger than him. His gaze stopped at one shelf half-hidden behind, there was something on it. Something not like the rest of the room.

A feeling came from the something that seemed to tell his instincts to stay away, but it was only drawing him to it. He stalked closer to the crate concealing the something resting on top of the shelf, slowly drawing Galaxia and willing the blade to form. He caught sight of what was on the shelf and time froze.

Time froze, the world moved backward, and he flew forwards. Everything lost its sound as his ears heard the scream of a sword clattering to the floor. All at the same time, nothing existed, but everything was too bright, too dark, too focused. He felt like he was going to be sick as he stared at the mini-figures of his dead friends frozen in place on the shelf. 

He doubled over as he felt light-headed and he threw off his mask before he became sick all over the floor. The clatter of the mask was far and near, echoed and dull, screaming and whispering. He shakily stood back up and looked at the mini-figures. Small. Insignificant. Frozen forever to time. They were just like the lives of his real friends. Small. Insignificant. Frozen forever to time. The only difference was that his friends’ lives didn’t exist anymore.

His eyes fell upon the mini-figure of Jecra. It looked just like he remembered him.

The mini-figure of Arthur had shining gold armor. Just like he remembered him.

The Garlude mini-figure looked strong and independent. Just like he remembered her.

Nonstraut stood with their hand held up proudly. Axe shining as if it was just polished. Just like he remembered them.

Falsapar’s red mohawk contrasted greatly against his green skin. Just like he remembered him.

Dragato’s pauldrons whereas big on him as they ever were and the spikes just barely big enough for the pieces of armor. Just… just like he remembered him…

Meta Knight felt warmth travel down his face in the realization that he had been crying this entire time. His entire body shook as he slowly picked up Galaxia and his mask and walked out of the room. He traveled up the stairs to the basement with both Galaxia and his mask in place, his emotions now hidden from the world once more, save the slight trembling of his body and the fact that even  _ he _ could tell his eyes were most likely dim.

His eyes flickered. He felt light-headed and tired. 

He made the trek down to the Halberd’s Hangar.

**Author's Note:**

> *Incoherent whispering in situational irony*


End file.
